When You Got A Good Thing
by burnthiscityxx
Summary: The Quinn/Mike/Sam/Tina rectangle gets even more complicated, as the two best friends find themselves trying to navigate obstacles, hardships, and even more crossroads. Sequel to Crash My Party.
1. Chapter 1: Drink a Beer

**Just like I promised - the sequel to Crash My Party!**

**Enjoy, y'all! And if you could, please leave me a nice little review. :)**

**Xoxo.**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Drink a Beer**

_So I'm gonna sit right here  
On the edge of this pier,  
Watch the sunset disappear  
And drink a beer.  
Funny how the good ones go  
Too soon, but the good lord knows  
The reasons why it gets...  
Sometimes the greater plan is kinda hard to understand,  
Right now it don't make sense.  
I can't make it all make sense...  
_

It was drizzling by the time they reached the Evans' house. People spilled out onto the front porch, a mass of bodies in black, and their expressions were sombre enough to match the dark clouds that threatened to break open over them. Standing beside Puck, who'd flown in from California earlier that day, Quinn clenched and unclenched her fingers into fists, desperately wishing there was some way to break the tension. She'd never visited the Evans house in Tennessee, but Sam had talked about it so much that it had begun to feel like a place she'd once been. And it had been warm, loud, full of love and light – not sad and quiet, like it was now.

"You doing okay?" Santana, dressed in a nearly-inappropriate black mini dress, touched Quinn on the shoulder comfortingly, her voice a soft whisper.

"I'm fine. Have you seen him yet?"

"Not since the burial," Santana sighed, leaning forward to give Puck a quick, one-armed hug.

"This is…unreal," Puck breathed out shakily, as they made their way through the front door. There was a dull buzz that filled the house, Southern accents blending with one another, as they shuffled past worried relatives, concerned family friends, and over-enthusiastic neighbours clutching casseroles and cakes.

They found an empty spot near the staircase and stood there awkwardly, smiling politely at the strangers who passed them, trying to blend into the wall as much as they could. It wasn't until Puck and Santana had left to get drinks that Quinn heard it – a soft, muffled cry that came from someone who had been holding it in for too long. She swivelled around, trying to pinpoint where it came from, until her eyes landed on the small closet under the stairs. Taking a tentative step, she knocked on the door to no response at first, but she pushed ahead anyways, and opened it slowly. There, nearly completely hidden from sight, were Stacy and Stevie, holding onto each other for dear life. Quinn immediately folded herself into the small closet, closing the door quietly behind her.

"Hey, guys," she said softly, settling uncomfortably in the mass of coats and other junk that lay on the floor. Resting her elbow on a nearby vacuum cleaner, she twisted her legs to fit into the small space and gave the kids a small smile. "It's certainly cosy in here,"

Stevie looked up at her and she noticed his arm was curled around his little sister's shoulders protectively. "Everybody outside is too sad," he muttered.

"Yeah, they are. You know why, right?"

"Because Daddy's in heaven," Stacy answered quietly. Quinn smiled and reached over to tuck the little girl's hair behind her ears. It had been so long since she'd seen the younger Evans kids – there had been a time when she'd seen them nearly every single day. It had been hard to see Sam's family go through their troubles, but Quinn didn't regret it one bit – not only did it bring them back together, it let her spend time with a family that actually knew how to be a family. Tears sprang to her eyes, as she thought about the Evans' unfailing kindness.

"That's right, Stace. Your dad's in heaven," Quinn said softly.

"Quinn? Do you think he's playing baseball with Billy Southworth?" Stevie asked.

She cocked her head to one side thoughtfully, before answering him. "I'm afraid I don't know who that is, but I'm sure your dad's having a grand old time up there,"

"Billy Southworth is a Cardinal," Stevie chuckled lightly

"Oh! Well, you know what? I think Billy's having a blast with your dad up in heaven,"

"I think Daddy's having a tea party," Stacy chimed in.

"You do?" Quinn's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, as the little girl nodded her head. Stacy's expression slowly shifted and tears welled up in her bright green eyes. "Oh, Stace, I didn't mean…"

"Dad promised to have a tea party with her after he…after he was supposed to come back from fishing," Stevie explained, pulling his little sister closer into him.

"Oh," Quinn whispered. Hoisting herself up from the vacuum cleaner, she settled in next to Stacy, lifting the little girl's chin so she could look her in the eyes. "You know what, Stace? I bet your daddy is the one pouring out the tea and handing out the biscuits – even to Billy Southworth,"

Stacy giggled and Stevie snorted, trying to hide his laughter. "What would Billy be doing at a tea party?" he asked with a smirk.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but everybody needs to drink and have a snack - even all-star Cardinals," Quinn teased, tapping Stevie on the nose.

"If daddy's having drinks and snacks in heaven, maybe we can have them, too? At the same time?" Stacy asked hopefully.

Quinn nodded. "Sure, sweetie," she said, shuffling towards the door again. With her fingers curled around the knob, she took a breath and turned back to the face the younger kids. "You guys know that a lot of people are going to want to talk to you, right? Is that okay?"

"It's okay," Stevie swallowed his nerves, his fingers finding Quinn's. "Let's go,"

Quinn bit her lip, realizing in that moment that Stevie wasn't the happy-go-lucky kid she used to babysit for anymore. He had grown almost overnight into a young man and there was darkness in his green eyes that wouldn't subside. Glancing over to her other side, where Stacy had also shoved her hand into Quinn's, she found a scared little girl, whose whole perfect world shattered from one phone call. Their biggest hero was gone and nothing was going to change that.

Considering how much she thought her life had been screwed up lately, it really put things into perspective.

She turned the doorknob and half-crawled, half-walked out of the closet, leading the kids straight to the kitchen. Luckily, everybody else seemed preoccupied with the free-flow of food and drink, so they slipped by unnoticed. In the kitchen, Quinn hoisted Stacy up onto the counter and grabbed two juice boxes from the fridge. She snatched up a plate of crab cakes and tea sandwiches, placing everything in front of the kids. "So…how do tea parties usually go in the Evans house?" Quinn asked, playfully tapping Stacy on the nose.

The little girl sighed noisily, her shoulders sagging, as if all her fight and excitement had fallen out of her. "It's okay, Quinnie. We don't have to do it,"

"You sure, Stace?"

"I think daddy probably wants some one-on-one time with Billy, huh, Stace?" Stevie prompted, his chin resting on the palm of his hand wearily. He swiped a cookie from the tray in front of him and shoved it into his mouth, barely taking the time to chew it thoroughly. Stacy nodded at her brother and gave Quinn a weak smile, before she took the juice box and sipped it carefully.

"There y'all are,"

Sam's voice pierced through the silence, his Southern drawl sounding more pronounced than it did in the city. Quinn didn't need to turn around to know it was him, but Stacy hopped off the counter to hug her oldest brother around his legs. When he finally rounded to face Quinn, she was taken aback by how defeated he looked. There were dark circles under his eyes and his lips were chapped, his cheeks ashen and stained from tears. His blonde hair was unkempt and his suit was wrinkled, but nothing was worse than the look in his eyes – lost, tired, and aching for a heart that was no longer beating.

"Hi, Quinn," he murmured, balancing Stacy on his hip.

"Hi," she replied quietly, coaxing the juice box out of the little girl's fingers. "I hope it's okay that I gave them a little something to eat,"

"No, it's fine," Sam shook his head, rubbing his Stacy's back soothingly. Quinn's eyes fixated on the way he held his little sister, his muscles tensing to hold her close. "Actually, could you hang out with them for a bit? I need to sort some stuff out with my mom and…I don't think my aunts and uncles are so great for them right now,"

"Absolutely," she replied automatically, her arms outstretched so Stacy could transfer into them easily. "Just like old times, right?"

Sam chuckled shortly, running his fingers through his hair. "Not quite, but…yeah. Thanks, though. I really appreciate it. Where's everybody else?"

" I'm not sure, actually. Maybe out back?"

"Take the kids out, if you want. It might be good for them to get some air," Sam suggested, mussing up Stevie's hair, before giving them all a weak smile and walking out of the kitchen.

Taking a deep breath and letting it back out, she knew the time for her and Sam to have a serious talk would have to wait. There were more important things to do now, more important decisions that would have to be made.

Important things that didn't include her.

* * *

Later that day, after the rain had cleared and everybody had left the Evans house, Quinn found herself pacing back and forth in her hotel room, her teeth gnawing at her fingernails. Dressed in a pair of denim shorts and a white, peasant top, she wasn't entirely sure why she even bothered changing into a somewhat decent outfit – despite everybody being in the same city together, it wasn't like it was the time for a Glee club reunion.

"You've got everything you need?" Mike asked, tapping on the open door that joined their rooms together.

"Yeah, I do, thanks," Quinn smiled, crossing the room to give her best friend a quick hug.

"How you doing, Fabray?"

"I'm alright,"

"Don't lie to me," he chuckled, tugging on her low ponytail. "The truth,"

Quinn walked back towards the bed, flopping backwards onto the mattress. "I'm confused," she breathed out.

"As expected," Mike shrugged, joining her. "You want to tell me what happened when Tina talked to you the other night?"

"It was more or less the same," Quinn raised herself up on her elbows to face her best friend properly. "She told me she was going to break up with Sam. That she wasn't mad or sad, that it was just time for her to move on – that it made sense for both of them to move on. And then…"

"And then Sam's dad passed away,"

"Right. And as much as I want to ask whether or not Tina and Sam are still together, I can't. Not when all of this is going on, not when he's got so much to think about. His dad is gone, Mike," she sniffed, frowning. "Those kids lost a hero today,"

"I know," Mike murmured, giving her arm an affectionate squeeze. "All we can do is just be there for him, you know? But Sam's strong; he'll get through it,"

"Eventually, he will, but it's just…he _has _to be strong. He can't fall apart because he knows his family needs him now, more than ever. It's just a matter of time before he breaks down," Quinn replied, biting her lip.

Silence fell between them and she could feel Mike shifting his body to make himself more comfortable. After several minutes of quiet, he spoke again. "Does this remind you of Fleetwood Mac week?"

Quinn chuckled, a small smile lifting the corners of her lips. "A little," she conceded, after some thought. "He'll keep it all inside and if we push him, he'll burst – like he did in the choir room that day,"

"So we should just sit back and do nothing?"

"Of course not. I don't know. I'm…"

"Confused?" Mike chuckled.

She groaned, grabbing a pillow and hitting her best friend with it. "Like you know where you stand with Tina?"

"I don't," he shrugged. "But I figure it'll all work out in the end. Fate and all that, you know?"

Quinn nodded. "What if fate doesn't work for me?"

Mike wrinkled his nose, his mind obviously in deep thought. After several seconds, he finally said,

"Then you've got to use a little bit of faith."

* * *

_Meet me at Gossett River._

She reread the text message for the tenth time, as she meandered through the twisting tree roots embedded in the forest ground. The sun was about to set, its last bits of orange slowly disappearing behind the horizon, and Quinn took a breath, reminding herself to commit it to memory – a picturesque sunset was hard to come by in New York. She exhaled and shivered slightly, the cool night air washing over her blanketed arms. As she neared the clearing at the end of the dirt path she'd been traveling on, Quinn noticed a familiar figure sitting at the docks. A six-pack was next to him, none of them opened, and from just the outline of a muscular back, she knew his feet would be swinging above the river, his toes grazing the still waters.

"Hey, stranger," she chirped, walking down the docks to sit next to him. Curling her legs against herself, she rested her chin on her knees and gazed out at the river – a little swampy and abandoned, but just as quaint and quintessentially Southern as she thought it'd be.

"Hey," one corner of his mouth turned up in a small smile, but she didn't need to face him to know it. "Did you get lost coming here?"

"No, the cab driver you sent seemed to know it just fine – thanks for that, by the way,"

"No worries," he breathed out and wiped his hands on his old Levi's, his callused fingers leaving nearly unrecognizable streaks in the denim. "Welcome to Tennessee," Sam gestured, holding his arms out in front of him, before leaning back on his hands, the length of his torso stretching out against the wooden dock.

"It's beautiful here," she whispered.

"Not exactly city life,"

"No, it's not. I guess that's what makes it beautiful," Quinn sighed, watching the river flow, its current slow and steady. She was content just to sit and bask in the quiet, but after several moments of silence between the two of them, she felt a familiar, rough thumb against the bare skin of her wrist. Every muscle in her body froze, her heart beating so loudly that she was sure the whole town could hear it. It was insane that a touch from a thumb, from a small sliver of skin, could make her feel like she was about to explode with electricity.

"Thank you. For everything today…I know my mom really appreciates it," Sam murmured, his fingers now tracing the soft curves of her wrist. It was an intimate gesture, but so subtle and understated that if Quinn's senses weren't on overdrive, she wouldn't have noticed it at all.

"It was the least we could do, Sam. I'm…I'm so sorry," her eyebrows furrowed hating how conventional and basic the words sounded in her mouth. "You guys don't deserve to go through this,"

"Thanks," Sam's fingers fell away from her wrist and for a split second, Quinn worried that she had said something wrong. But as soon as she started to miss his warmth, she felt his chin rest on her shoulder, his breathing even and tickling the back of her neck. "It sucks, Quinn,"

"I know it does," she whispered softly. "But you're strong, you know. Remember what happened in high school? And you got through that so gracefully and your dad was so proud – we all were,"

"You know how I got through that? Because of my dad. And now he's just…gone," Sam's voice cracked and without even looking back, Quinn knew he was fighting back tears. "They were supposed to come visit me in New York, did you know that? I was supposed to show them everything, show them that I was actually going to do something with my life, so they could finally be proud of me and now…he's just…"

His breathing hitched, rendering him speechless, and instinctively, Quinn turned around to cup his face in her hands. Giving him a long, intense stare, she bit her lip trying to figure out the right words to say. "Your parents – both of them – are so proud of you. Your _family_ is so proud of you. Sam, you helped them get out of debt and you put shoes on your little brother's feet and you gave up camping trips with Glee so Stacy could go to summer camp. Don't you ever think that all of that doesn't matter,"

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and leaned forward, resting his forehead on hers. "I just want everything to go back to the way it was. None of this makes sense,"

"I know," Quinn whispered, immediately gathering him in her arms. She felt his heart beat quicken and she held him until it slowed down, until his breathing went back to normal. "We're all here for you, Sam. For as long as you need,"

He pulled away and ran a hand over his face, shaking the strands of blonde hair out of his eyes. "Quinn, I'm…sorry. After everything that happened back in New York…"

"Don't even start that with me, Evans," she chuckled. "Now's not the time to talk about whatever this is," she gestured to the space between them and smiled when she saw the corners of his lips curl up.

Silence fell between them again, but it was more comfortable this time around – less weighted and dark than before. It wasn't until the last bits of the orange sun finally disappeared behind the horizon and darkness blanketed the night, that Sam finally spoke.

"I've wanted to show you this part of Tennessee from the first day I met you," his voice was softer and nostalgic, just quiet enough for the two of them.

"That day you got slushied?" she giggled.

"Okay, maybe not…_that_ day," he laughed and stopped short, as if just a little bit of happiness was unfair to the memory of what had happened. "But this…this small part of Gossett River…it's sort of my happy place. I used to come here and play my guitar for hours because it was so quiet. And I liked that there was never anybody else around – until now, that is,"

"Sam…"

"No, I know, now's not the time to talk about it," he shook his head. "But that doesn't change the fact that having you here, in one of my favourite places in the world…it helps,"

Quinn pursed her lips, trying to contain her smile.

There were still so many things to discuss between them – his father, his next step in life, her future, the possibility of them together again – but if Sam was content to just listen to the river and the sounds of the night, then Quinn would do the same.


	2. Chapter 2: If You Wanna Stay

**First off – thank you so much for all the awesome feedback I've been getting on the first chapter of this sequel fic! I'm a little nervous going into it, because I've never written a sequel before, but hopefully y'all like it! :)**

**Last chapter was introductory, I wanted to set up the story all over again and let you see the aftermath of Sam's dad's death. There was no real conflict or crazy revelation, just a sweet scene between Sam and Quinn at the end, which I really loved. But THIS chapter is a lot more action-packed. Haha! You'll get to see the Mike/Tina storyline get resolved and delve into a new direction for our favourite blonde couple – I'm excited! Just a small reminder – we're still set in Tennessee and I LOVE writing about the South and showing off Chord's Southern side. If you read my other fics, a lot of it is country music oriented. Tee hee. :)**

**Anyway, y'all please read and enjoy and leave a few kind words! I'm nervous about this one. :P**

**And no, I don't own Glee. Otherwise it'd be Sam lighting a bunch of candles for Quinn – not Mercedes. Lol.**

**Xoxo.**

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**Chapter 2: If You Wanna Stay**

_I never wanna be the one who kept you from being free  
But girl, I gotta know what you want, 'cause I've taken all I can take  
So just go if you wanna go, stay if you wanna stay…_

"I can't believe you're going back already," Quinn sighed, stepping out of Mike's hug with a pout on her lips.

"Sorry, kid," he chuckled, tugging on her braid playfully. "I have tutorials that I can't skip and I have a dance exam next week. I haven't choreographed any part of it,"

"The South isn't giving you much inspiration?"

Mike smirked, bending down to lift his duffel bag over one shoulder. "I'm surprised you're okay with it – don't you city types hate bugs?"

"I'm not staying for the Southern hospitality, Mikey," she chirped, handing him his laptop case that she had been holding. They weren't strangers to airport goodbyes – in fact, much like their lives together, Quinn and Mike had a perfect dance designed to make things easier between them. And it was the little things, like how she'd hold his laptop while he got everything in order or how she'd always ask if he had his passport, before he decided he needed a quick trip to the bathroom. They were comfortable, settled in, and old-fashioned in their ways around each other.

Nowadays, it was one of the few things Quinn could count on, no questions asked.

"How are you with that, anyway? I know it must be hard, not having an answer for what you guys are,"

"Why do people say that? What if I'm completely okay with letting everything be open ended?" Quinn demanded.

"Because you're Type A,"

"Shut up,"

With a chuckle, Mike leaned forward and kissed his best friend on the cheek, before turning towards his gate. Quinn crossed her arms and watched him walk away from her, knowing that soon, they'd be back in the city together, conquering it one step at a time. But just as Mike was about to get in line for security checks, Quinn felt a gust of wind blow right past her – and suddenly, a familiar figure appeared, all blue-streaked hair and black clothes.

"Mike!"

Tina's voice carried over the heads of other passengers, until it finally reached who it was meant for. He turned quickly, the straps of his duffel bag falling off his shoulder, and when he registered who it was, he started in a full sprint, eyes wide with fear, concern, shock, and worry. Stopping just short of slamming into her small body, Mike clutched at Tina's arms, as if to shake her.

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?"

As discreetly as she could, Quinn moved closer towards them, hovering just close enough so that she could hear their conversation. Tina did a quick double take, before shaking her head and looking up at Mike.

"I had to see you. I had to…I had to tell you," she said, breathlessly. Her eyes wide and bright, Quinn's heart ached at how beautiful her friend looked – so alive and carefree.

"Tell me what?"

"Sam and I broke up,"

The words washed over Mike first, and then Quinn, loud enough that it reached their very souls, but whispered quietly in the noisy airport terminal. Tina bounced from foot to foot, waiting for a response, but when Mike stood there, slack-jawed, Quinn brought it upon herself to speak first.

"Tina, you know he's in a vulnerable place right now…"

"No, Quinn, we talked about it. Honestly, it wasn't one of us breaking up with the other – we both ended things mutually, I swear it. We're better off as friends," Tina explained, giving Quinn a small smile. "You're in the clear, Fabray,"

"Tee…"

"Mike?" she asked, turning her head up to face him and completely ignoring Quinn. "Did you hear what I just said?"

Mike blinked once and looked down at Tina, as if he were registering her for the first time. There was something different in the way his lips curled upwards, something real and genuine and sincere. For the first time in a long time, Quinn found herself seeing Mike in a new light – he was happy. It made her own heart soar to new heights and she stepped away slightly, suddenly feeling as if she were intruding on a private moment.

"Thank god," Mike finally said, a laugh escaping his mouth, as he dropped the rest of his bags and wrapped his arms around Tina. They embraced for what seemed like forever, until the voice over the loudspeaker caused Quinn to clear her throat and they separated.

"I'm so sorry, but Mike…it's the last call for your flight," she chuckled, doing little to hide her smile. Seeing her best friend happy made her happy and even though Quinn wanted to call Sam desperately, she knew that it'd have to wait – her own story had to wait, while Mike got his.

Mike groaned, bending down to pick up his duffel bag. "You're a pain, Fabray," he chuckled, before locking eyes with Tina, again. "I'll see you in New York?"

Tina bit her lip and bounced slightly on her heels. After a moment of deliberation, she shook her head. "You'll see me now. I'm coming with you," she announced.

"What?"

"See?" Tina held up a plane ticket and after a quick glance, Quinn saw that it was for the exact same flight. "I took a hunch and I'm just…I'm coming with you,"

"_Tina_,"

Mike's voice came out strangled and for the first time in a long time, Quinn couldn't recognize it. It didn't take her long to figure out that of course she'd never heard him use that voice before – that voice was probably reserved for Tina, and only Tina – a girl he loved with all his heart, a girl who was standing in front of him and offering him the world. Taking another step back, Quinn knew it was time for her to leave. She offered them both a satisfied smile, before watching them – limbs intertwined and all – go through the gate and back to the city, ready to restart their lives together. It fit, so perfectly, that the rest of it fell away – all the drama, the back-and-forth, and all the uncertainty vanished within seconds. All it took was one person – the right person – to make a big gesture.

As Quinn strolled through the airport, past couples and families who were all saying their hellos and goodbyes, she couldn't help but break out into a grin. Her best friend had found what he was looking for. Optimistic, idealistic, and hopeless romantic Mike Chang had found his happy ending.

But as she made her way to the parking lot, Quinn was starting to wonder if she could ever gather the courage to find hers.

* * *

She barely made it onto the freeway, before her phone started to ring. Without bothering to look at the caller ID, Quinn swiped her phone and placed it on speakerphone, clipping the small device onto the holder attached to the dashboard. She turned down the volume on a Brooks & Dunn song and expertly weaved the rental car onto the freeway.

"Yeah?" she called out distractedly.

"Quinn? Where are you? Are you busy?" Rachel's voice filled the car.

"I'm heading back to the city from the airport, I just dropped Mike off," she explained.

"Come to our hotel! We're having a little get-together down at the pool,"

Quinn smirked – leave it to Rachel Berry to somehow put together a Glee reunion at the very last minute. "Isn't that kind of inappropriate? I mean, given the reasons why we're in Tennessee in the first place?"

"Don't make me feel guilty about this, Quinnie. Besides, Sam is with his family and I think we could all let off a little steam," Rachel took a deep breath. "Please come. Everybody's here,"

"Okay, okay. I'll see you in a bit," Quinn hung up and turned the radio back to full blast, her fingers bopping along to the beat of another country song. If there was one thing being in Tennessee taught her, it was that she could get used to the music scene easily – there was something about the strum of an acoustic guitar, something about that drawl, that pulled her in. With a small smirk on her lips, remembering the days way back when Sam would introduce her to new music, she pulled into her hotel's parking lot and quickly hurried out.

Twenty minutes later, Quinn was pulling the rental car into the Hamptons Inn parking lot. Tumbling out gracelessly, she immediately heard the faint sounds of a familiar 90's pop song playing and headed in that direction – knowing her friends, they'd probably created a stage at the pool bar. But when she reached the elaborate backyard of the hotel, she was surprised to see that it was mostly empty – except for one overflowing cabana that had a small stereo playing an old Madonna tune.

"Hey, guys," she waved tentatively, dropping her bag.

"Quinn! You're just in time. We're in the middle of a toast," Rachel shoved a shot glass into her hand and dragged her towards the center of the group. "Would you like to say a few words?"

"What are we toasting?"

"Dwight Evans," Puck replied morosely. Quinn blinked once, twice, before realizing that she was already trying to blink back tears. Clearing her throat, she clutched her shot glass close to her lips, trying to figure out what words would fit the moment right.

"Dwight Evans was everything to his family. He was pure light and joy and he was warm and welcoming to everybody he met. The world's lost a hero," Quinn murmured, raising her glass and tipping the liquid into her mouth, feeling it burn into the back of her throat.

"Well-said," Puck nodded and did the same, the action repeated throughout their small group. After several seconds of silence and several sniffles from the girls, they all placed their glasses on the nearby coffee table and situated themselves in and around the cabana.

"Does anybody know how Sam's doing?" Quinn asked warily, settling back against the pillows. She fiddled with the nearby stereo, settling on a soft jazz station, as Rachel and Santana climbed up into the cabana to make themselves comfortable.

"I called him earlier this morning, but he sounded busy with the kids," Santana explained.

"Good, that means something is back to normal," Quinn smiled softly. "So…Mike's on a plane back to the city. With Tina," she added.

Rachel, who had been lying on her back, immediately sprang up at the news. "What?!" she screeched. "She just _left_ Sam?!"

"She didn't just _leave_ him," Quinn smirked. "They broke up. And just as Mike was getting on the plane, she showed up. And they left together. She made the big gesture," she shrugged.

"That's kind of…unconventional,"

Quinn raised an eyebrow in annoyance. "As if anything we've ever done has ever been conventional," she scoffed.

"I think it's kind of appropriate," Santana said, shaking her hair out of her ponytail. "We all knew they belonged together,"

"Question – how's Sam doing with all this?" Rachel asked.

"Here's a better question," Santana interjected. "How is _Quinn_ doing with all this?"

Rachel quirked an eyebrow quizzically, before turning to face the blonde girl. A look of confusion passed over her pretty features, until realization set in. "Wait a second, did you guys…oh, Quinn. You didn't,"

"Didn't what?" Quinn demanded. "Didn't break them up? No, I didn't, Rachel. Contrary to popular belief, I didn't break Sam and Tina up – that was all on them,"

"No, but you did sleep with him," Santana snickered.

"Hey! Okay, you know what, if you guys are just going to sit and pick apart…"

"We're not – honestly, Quinn, we're not!" Rachel cried, whacking Santana on the arm. "But in all seriousness, now that Mike and Tina are back together, where does that leave things for you and Sam?"

Quinn took a deep breath and let it out shakily. "I have no idea," she admitted ruefully. "Honestly? I wanted to run to him the minute I heard Tina say it was over,"

"Why didn't you?"

"Because Rachel called," Quinn chuckled. "And because…I don't know. It was so easy to see Mike and Tina fall in love all over again. And even though things between Sam and I haven't really ended and there's still that chemistry and I'm still so…"

"In love?" Santana offered.

Quinn winced at the L-word, her eyes squinting slightly. "Sure," she replied through gritted teeth. "Given that his dad just passed away, I don't really think he's in the same place as I am,"

"Well, it's a damn shame," Blaine chimed in, settling himself at the end of the cabana. "You're not even going to go over there and see if he wants to start things up again?"

"Are you guys high? You do realize he just buried his father yesterday, right?" Quinn shot back, shocked at how insensitive her friends could be. They were family, sure, but they were still dysfunctional and tactless, for the most part.

"We're not saying you go over there and jump his bones, Fabray," Santana laughed. "But it'd be worth it to just go and talk to him, see where his head is at after breaking up with Tina,"

"Santana's right. He loves you, everybody knows that. It's just whether or not he's ready to be in love with you – that's the thing you have to figure out. Maybe it's time _you_ make the big gesture," Blaine added wisely.

Quinn bit her lip, picking at her cuticles, as she processed what her friends were saying to her. On one hand, there was nothing stopping her. She could go to Sam, they could kiss and make up, and then they could start their lives together in New York. But on the other hand, there was a nagging feeling at the back of her mind – she knew Sam well enough that there was about to be a big change on the horizon.

"Alright, I'll…I'll go see him," she relented.

It was like she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

* * *

Standing outside the Evans' house, Quinn rocked back and forth, her finger hovering over the doorbell. The Tennessee sun was setting and the night air was warm, blanketing her shoulders comfortingly, but she couldn't shake her uneasy feeling. Taking a deep breath and letting it out, she pressed the doorbell and sent a quick prayer into the universe.

"Quinn?" a Southern drawl pulled her out of her thoughts and she let her eyes take in the familiar figure that took up the doorway. There was an effortlessness that came with Sam-in-Tennessee, like being back home made him looser, more laid-back, and in general, more like the Sam she started to know in high school.

"Hi, Sam," she whispered. "Can we talk?"

He nodded, stepping out onto the porch and unexpectedly pulling her in for a hug. She let herself fall against his chest, curving her body to fit his, and breathed him in. After several blissful seconds, they pulled apart from each other and moved to sit on the wicker swing. They stayed silent for several minutes, taking in the gorgeous sunset, until Quinn finally said, "It's really beautiful here,"

"You said that yesterday, too," he chuckled.

"It's true, though. Tennessee is just…a different level," she sighed, breathing in the fresh air. "Sam, I have to…"

"You heard about Tina?" he interrupted, without even looking at her. "She's back to New York with Mike,"

"I know, I was there," she said softly, bracing herself for an outburst that for some reason wouldn't come. "You're okay with that?"

Sam chuckled, turning to face Quinn with intensity in his green eyes that she couldn't quite place. "I'm more than okay with it. I'm happy for her. Those two…they belong together,"

"Which is kind of what I wanted to talk to you about," she interjected, wincing at how high her voice came out of her mouth.

"I have something to tell you,"

"Sam," she groaned, her name strangled in her throat. "Can you let me finish and just let me say what I want to say?"

"I just…okay, fine. You go first,"

Quinn took a breath and let it out, her top teeth pulling in her bottom lip nervously. It wasn't the time for her to be scared or build up walls, like she always did. Despite her natural instinct to brush it all off and act nonchalant about the whole thing, Quinn knew that this time – this time it was her turn to make a big gesture.

"I don't even know how to start this…just…okay, I know you're obviously dealing with the aftermath of your dad's death and it's way too soon to jump into anything right now, but I need to know where your head is at with everything that's gone on with Tina and Mike and me and what we did in New York and I know it's just really bad timing, but I just need to know what's going to happen, so I know what I need to do when things go back to normal. Or if they don't, whatever. But you know how I feel about you and I'm just…god, Sam, I don't want to be happy that you and Tina broke up, but I am and I know I shouldn't be, but I'm just happy that you're my Sam again. Or like, you _could_ be,"

She let out another breath, her chest heaving up and down and she tried to get her thoughts under control. The words that had fallen out of her mouth seemed to have fallen out of their own accord and as she realized just how silly it all must have sounded, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Forcing herself to look up at Sam, she nearly burst out laughing at the comical expression on his face – his eyes wide, mouth slightly open, completely surprised.

"Sam?" she poked him gently in the side, worried when he didn't respond. "Okay, so you're clearly not ready to talk about it – which is fine. But I'm just…well, I'm kind of laying my heart out on the line here and I'm pretty sure I just word-vomited my feelings and it'd be great if you could…"

Suddenly, Quinn's mouth tasted like Sam, his heartbeat matching hers and his lips covering her own, and for the briefest of moments, she understood what it felt to be _kissed_. She wasn't aware of anything else in the world – not the fading sunset, not the sound of crickets, not the distant hum of a tractor – nothing existed except her and Sam. She had dreamed of moments like that, undisturbed and untarnished, just her and him, wrapped up in old memories and lips and limbs.

After what felt like a thousand seconds, Sam pulled away, resting his forehead against hers, his eyes half-lidded. She instantly missed his touch and wanted so badly to wrap her arms around him again – to feel his muscles ripple underneath her fingertips – but she settled for his touch ghosting over her hips. Quinn breathed him in, her head dizzy with the familiar smells of vanilla and beer – a combination that wouldn't normally work, but was so quintessentially Tennessee Sam that it made her homesick for a place she'd never found.

"I'm in love with you," Sam whispered softly. "I've always been in love with you,"

Quinn instantly felt her limbs tense – there was something different, something desperate in the way he said his words. Her heart sped up and her stomach twisted, but she stayed silent, willing him to continue his thoughts.

"I wanted it to work with Tina and I tried. We both did. But I can't…I can't find what you and I had with someone else," he drew in his breath and let it out again. "I have to tell you something,"

She felt tears spring to her eyes and willed herself not to blink, because if she did, she knew she wouldn't be able to stop the waterfall that was bound to follow.

"Sam…don't," she was pleading with him, but she didn't know what for – he hadn't given her a reason to beg him for anything. But there was something in those eyes, something in the way his bottom lip quivered, something in the way he gripped her – urgently, desperately – as if it were for the last time. She knew him, every inch and crevice of his mind, and on instinct alone, it was as if she could hear it.

"I'm transferring to Belmont University…so I can be closer to home."

The sound of the other shoe dropping.


	3. Chapter 3: More Than Miles

**Thank you so much for all the beautiful words you write me! So grateful. :)**

**Here's the next chapter and I'm just moving things along...this one was kind of hard to write, just because I couldn't find a lot of inspiration, but oh well. Here it goes!**

**Read, enjoy, and please leave me a review! They're such fun to read. :)**

**Obviously, I don't own Glee or its characters. If I did...well, Quinn would be in NYC. Lol.**

* * *

**Chapter 3: More Than Miles**

Previously…

"_Sam…don't," she was pleading with him, but she didn't know what for – he hadn't given her a reason to beg him for anything._

_"I'm transferring to Belmont University…so I can be closer to home."_

Quinn felt the blood rush to her head and she noted how fitting it was – like she was doing a handstand and the whole world was upside down and she was spinning, spinning into oblivion. Quickly glancing out at the land before them, she noticed the Tennessee sun had completely disappeared and the only source of light they had was coming from the lanterns that decorated the Evans' spacious front yard. And despite the quiet that surrounded them, Quinn felt her heart beating out of her chest.

"You're leaving New York?" her voice cracked and she winced at how weak she sounded.

"I'm not leaving anything, Quinn…I'm coming back home," he smiled sadly, the pad of his thumb rubbing against the soft curve of her jawline. "I can't just go back to the city – not when my mom and Stacy and Stevie…not when they need me the most,"

She sighed, relishing in the way his callused fingers touched her skin. "You're sure about this?"

"I am," he nodded. "But I need you to know that me staying in Tennessee has nothing to do with you or what we did in New York. It's just…after everything that's happened; I need to be home,"

"I know you do," she breathed out, resigning herself to his decision. "Your family needs you, I get that. I just…does this mean…"

Sam's head tilted to one side, examining her features with soft, gentle eyes. "I don't know what it means for us, honestly. You know, in a perfect world, my dad would still be here and I could go back to the city and we could just pick up where we left off,"

"But it's not a perfect world," she pouted.

"Far from it," Sam chuckled, leaning back into the swing and pulling Quinn along with him. She curved her body to fit against his, struck with the painful realization that this would be one of the last times she'd be able to. "It's not fair of me to ask you to wait or to stay for me…realistically; we're both going to date other people,"

"Sam, we're not even dating each _other_,"

"You know what I mean," he poked her in the side and she squirmed, a smile pulling the corners of her lips upwards. He took in a deep breath and let it out, as if he was psyching himself up to say the next few words. "Do you want to do long distance?"

Quinn's eyebrows knitted together, as she quickly tried to weigh the pros and cons. "I have no idea," she sighed exasperatedly. "It's not like I don't want to be with you, because…"

"Because you obviously do," Sam joked.

She rolled her eyes, tugging on his sleeve playfully. "But it's going to be hard, Sam. We're just testing out the waters and this thing between us is still so up-in-the-air that we can't really…can you really see yourself committing to a long distance relationship so soon?"

"I can," Sam shrugged simply.

"Yeah, well, you proposed to me two weeks into our relationship in high school, so I guess I should expect that," Quinn giggled. "Look, I know you don't just say things without meaning it, but I can't help but be a little hesitant this time around - I have to be, especially after everything we went through back in New York,"

Sam nodded slowly, his lips pursed in thought. "Okay, how about this? I stay here and you go back. We'll talk and keep in touch, but…you're free to date whoever you want. If you want,"

"Well, what about you? Won't you date anybody?"

"I've got bigger things on my mind than dating somebody who isn't you, Quinn Fabray," Sam grinned. "And who knows, maybe in a couple of years or months…if we're still meant for each other, we'll find our way back,"

Quinn chewed on her bottom lip in thought. "So you're okay with us not being…whatever we are?"

"It's always going to be complicated with you, you know that right?" he whispered, leaning forward to press his lips against her collarbone. "But if you're willing, then I'm willing,"

She tilted her head back and felt Sam's lips make a trail up her neck and to the back of her ear, his nose tickling her, his breath hot on her skin. Quinn had a feeling he was sufficiently done with the conversation and unsurprisingly, she was on the exact same page.

* * *

"Thanks for inviting me over – you have no idea how pathetic it is to come back home to nothing in the refrigerator," Quinn chirped, making sure she had a steady grip on her wine glass, before putting her feet up on the coffee table.

She had landed in New York several hours before and had barely made it to her bedroom, when Tina called. Now that she and Mike were back together, it was as if the awkwardness and competitive tension between the two girls had completely fallen away. For once, Quinn was grateful for it – she never knew how much she'd missed Tina.

"I figured as much," Tina chuckled, setting down a big dish of pasta and garlic bread. "But this is courtesy of Kurt – he thought I'd need some serious sustenance when we all moved to the city, but I just stuck it in the freezer,"

"Either way, it looks amazing," Quinn grinned, reaching forward to pick up a slice of bread. "How are things?"

Tina sighed, leaning back into her couch. "Things are good. Ever since we got back from Nashville, things have been...easier. Is that terrible to say?" she asked, as an afterthought.

"No," Quinn immediately replied. "You're happy and there's nothing wrong with that,"

Before Tina could respond, her front door burst open and Mike walked in, drenched to the bone. "It is _freezing_ out there," he stammered, kicking off his shoes and breezing right past the girls, heading straight for the bathroom. Several seconds later, they heard the shower start.

"Quinn's here!" Tina called out, laughing. "Sorry about that,"

"Has he been staying here since y'all got back?" Quinn asked, her nose wrinkling at the sudden change in her inflection. Apparently, Tennessee had had a bigger influence on her than she thought.

"Pretty much. He came up with a lame excuse about how a girl shouldn't be living in an apartment alone in the city…whatever, it was cute," Tina shrugged, hiding her blush behind her wine glass.

Quinn scoffed and took another bite of her garlic bread, chewing on it thoughtfully. Things had definitely shifted for the better between the three of them – her, Mike, and Tina. But despite all the positive vibes and how light she felt among them, Quinn couldn't shake the feeling that it all would've been better if one person was there – Sam.

"Hey, Fabray," Mike's voice interrupted her thoughts and she looked up to see her best friend walking out. Dressed in a pair of basketball shorts, he dried off his wet hair and hung the towel around his neck.

"You are way too comfortable," Quinn chuckled, ducking to avoid his mouth coming near her forehead. "Don't you have a shower at your place?"

"Yeah, but I don't have a Tina," Mike smirked, balancing himself on the arm of the couch, his own arm draped lazily over the back.

"You're a nerd," Tina laughed. "And go put a shirt on, we have company!"

"It's only Quinn - she's seen me naked before,"

"Ew," Quinn shook her head, wincing. "That's gross,"

Mike snickered. "Speaking of seeing people naked…how's Sam?" he asked, a smirk curling across his lips. He dodged Tina's playful punch expressionlessly, focusing his attention on Quinn, who seemed downright uncomfortable.

"You don't have to answer that," Tina chimed in.

"Sam's _fine_," Quinn answered through gritted teeth. "He's in the middle of getting all the paperwork sorted out for his transfer,"

"All kidding aside though, that really sucks," Mike sighed. "I'm going to miss him,"

"He's still in the country, at least," Quinn sighed. "I don't know, we left everything open-ended,"

"Really?" Tina asked, ripping off a piece of garlic bread and popping it into her mouth. "But Sam's not really an open-ended kind of guy. And neither are you,"

Quinn shrugged, taking a sip of her wine. "Honestly, I'll take what I can get. Maybe it's better this way. We can both date other people and stay unattached…maybe things don't have to be so defined. Like you guys," she teased, wrinkling her nose at Mike and Tina, who both laughed.

"We just want to see you as happy as we are," he pointed out, pressing his lips against his girlfriend's hair. Quinn narrowed her eyes, wincing at how her heart hurt from watching them.

She felt the familiar sting in her stomach and briefly wondered if she and Sam had made the right decision. Had they really thought it through completely? She was overwhelmed with the sudden urge to purchase another flight ticket, but before Quinn could make her next impulsive move, Tina interrupted.

"Actually, since Sam's not coming back to New York, could you take some of his stuff, Quinn?"

The blonde's eyes widened in disbelief and Mike ran a hand over his face, slightly embarrassed. "Tee, a little more tact could've helped," he groaned.

"Wait, are you kicking Sam out so Mike can move in?" Quinn called out to Tina, who had already disappeared into the room.

"Of course not!" she cried back indignantly, marching out with a box filled to the brim. "But I've been texting Sam since we got back and he graciously mentioned that if I wanted some extra space, I can hand over a bunch of his stuff," Tina shrugged, placing the box on the coffee table.

Quinn reached forward and ran her fingers over the items – several shirts, a few books, and some CDs were scattered across the top. "What about everything else?" she asked softly.

"I don't know," Tina shrugged. "He hasn't really specified what he wanted to keep and what he wanted to throw away. I'm shipping the majority of his clothes back to Tennessee, but everything else…it's in there. It's not much, but I figured if anybody should have it, it should be you,"

"Thanks," Quinn whispered, her mind already flooding with memories and images of Sam – in Tennessee, in New York, in any possible way she could still remember him.

It dawned on her that this was all she'd have left of him now. Pieces and flashes of someone she was in love with, never able to combine it with her current life. He would never come to a dance recital, would never be around for Friday night dinners, would never witness Tina and Mike rediscover their love for each other.

The thought almost made Quinn burst into tears.

* * *

Later that night, after a few more bites of dinner with Tina and Mike, Quinn entered her familiar apartment, ready to call it a night. She was exhausted from her flight, spent from the emotional maelstrom she'd been put through, and all she really wanted was her comfortable flannel pajamas, a warm mug of tea, and something on Netflix to put her straight to sleep.

But before she could completely close the front door, her phone started to ring, the familiar tone blaring out of her purse. Stumbling towards the couch, Quinn unloaded her arms of the bulky, heavy box and her handbag, rummaging through the various items to find the small device. Without even looking at who it was, she slid her finger across the screen, and pressed the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Quinn?"

The voice came through the receiver all crackly, like they were speaking through a piece of crumpling foil paper, but even with all the static, she knew exactly who it was. Instinctively, she cradled the phone closer to her, leaping over the back of the couch to settle in.

"Sam," she said softy, pulling her wool blanket over her knees.

"Hey! Are you at home? Get on Skype, okay? This call is sort of expensive," he chuckled. "I'll see you online in five," Sam's clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and even though he couldn't see, Quinn nodded, before pulling the phone away as he hung up.

With renewed vigour, she fired up her laptop that had been sitting on her coffee table and logged into Skype, sending a grateful prayer that technology invented an amazing, amazing thing. In several minutes, Sam's handsome face filled up her screen and she grinned – it hadn't even been a whole day, but she had missed his green eyes, twinkling and sparkling with mischief, like they always were around her.

"Hi," she gave him a small, shy wave, suddenly feeling nervous.

"Hey," Sam grinned, his lips curling upwards into a genuine, sincere smile that reached his eyes. "How was your flight? Did you get in okay? What've you been doing all day?"

Quinn mirrored his smile, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. "The flight was fine; I slept most of the way. And I've been at Tina's, actually. She invited me over for dinner, after I realized I had zero groceries at home," she rolled her eyes.

"How was that?"

"Fine," Quinn paused, biting her lower lip. "Mike came over, too. They're…cute,"

Sam chuckled, running a hand through his messy blonde hair. "Yeah, they're adorable," he said. "So, listen, did Tina…"

"Yeah, she gave me a box of your stuff. I thought she was actually kicking you out so Mike could move in, but apparently you talked to her about it?" Quinn asked, angling her laptop screen so she could show him the overflowing box, before turning it back to her.

"I did – she could use the extra space and I didn't have much stuff over there anyway. I hope it's okay that I asked her to give it to you?"

"No, of course, it's okay," Quinn smiled. "I just…what do you want me to do with it? Ship it over?"

Sam shrugged. "You can sift through it, see if you want anything. I think it's just t-shirts and CDs. If there's anything valuable or worth keeping, you can have it,"

"Wow, thanks," she scoffed. Sam chuckled in response and leaned back – his torso filled up the screen and she realized he was propped up against his headboard. "So, what've you been up to today?"

"Lots of paperwork. Transferring schools is such a pain," he groaned, before his features softened again. "I took them to see Dad today," Sam whispered gently, his lips curling around his words uncomfortably.

"How was it?"

"Strange," he blurted out. "It's just…it wasn't _Dad_, you know? It was just another grave, another hour in the cemetery, and it's ridiculous, but it felt so weird to feel so sad over a stone stuck in dirt. Does that make me a bad person?" Sam asked, after a short pause.

Quinn automatically shook her head, pulling the laptop onto her lap, as she moved back onto her couch, wordlessly.

"Stacy and Stevie asked about you. And my mom says hi. They miss you," his voice dropped to a lower register and Quinn felt her heart ache. She wanted to reach through the screen and touch him, wrap an arm around his neck, bury his face in that space underneath his jawline, where she knew she'd fit perfectly.

"Well, I miss them. And you," she sighed, tugging on a strand of hair that had fallen from her messy ponytail.

"Yeah, but…"

"I know, I know. You need to be there right now and I need to be here," she smiled softly. "But that doesn't mean I can't complain about it,"

Sam chuckled, running a hand over his face. "Well, I miss you, too. If it makes you feel any better. It's weird, Nashville feels emptier without you – even though y'all were only here for like, three days,"

"Look at you, all Southern," she smirked.

"As always," he chuckled. "Anyway, I better let you get some rest and I'm exhausted, but I just wanted to check in and see that you were safe. I'll talk to you soon?"

"Of course. Say hi to Stacy and Stevie and your mom. Take care, Sam,"

"You too, Quinn,"

With another small wave and a smile, Sam disconnected the Skype call and Quinn closed her laptop, shoving it off her lap with abandon. There was no finality to it, no decision made about it, and despite the fact that they had chosen to stay in their twisted state of limbo, she knew the next few weeks, months, maybe even years, were going to be tough on her. Unwrapping the blanket from her legs, Quinn got up and immediately grabbed her things, including Sam's box, to bring into her bedroom, still messy from the night she'd gotten that phone call from Mike.

In some ways, it felt like just yesterday – answering her phone and finding out that Sam's dad was gone. In other ways, it felt like it had happened so long ago – like having Sam in Nashville and not in the city with her made time stretch into several lifetimes. Kicking aside a few sweaters she'd thrown out of her closet in her frenzy to pack, Quinn settled herself on the edge of the bed, her ankle brushing against the scratchy material of the cardboard box. It was waiting for her, just waiting for her to go through everything inside – but Quinn held back, at least for a little longer.

She was terrified of what she'd find, really. A part of her wondered if she'd have to sift through photographs of Sam and Tina, afraid that she'd find absolutely no trace of her existence in their lives at all. The other part of her didn't want to find a small shrine dedicated to her, either.

Taking in a slow breath to psych herself up, Quinn finally pushed herself up, picked up the box, and tipped all of its contents onto her messy bedspread. CDs and small boxes bounced across the mattress, while a pile of shirts sat lumped together – the scent of vanilla and beer and musk making her dizzy. For the briefest of moments, Quinn closed her eyes and imagined him with her, arms wrapped around her waist, his lips touching hers softly.

"Okay, Quinn. Get it together." she told herself.


	4. Chapter 4: Breathe Again

**Hi, lovely readers! :)**

**First off, thank you for all your reviews and comments! Love getting them and I love hearing what y'all have to say.**

**Secondly, if you were looking for happy Quinn, I suggest you try another fic. Lol. There's a lot of angst here and I can tell you from personal experience that it's expected in a situation like this. I've always been fascinated with really complicated relationships – the kind where everything is up on the air and there's no real word or definition that fits with what two people are. I'm finding that it's definitely hard to write and convey those thoughts and emotions, but it's really fun to dig in to and write, though.**

**Regardless, here is chapter 4! We are moving along nicely, folks! Haha. This chapter sees a little bit more of Quinn's sad side and you'll see someone who I've mentioned before pop up again – he was talked about very briefly in the first chapter of Crash My Party…so if you don't remember him, I don't blame you. Lol.**

**Anyway, please read and leave me a review! I haven't abandoned this story and I'm still gearing towards a happy ending, so don't let me hanging, people! :P**

**Obviously, I don't own Glee. If I did, Sam would move to Tennessee and Quinn would be there. I don't know how it'd happen, but whatever.**

* * *

**Chapter 4: Breathe Again**

_All those words came undone and now I'm not the only one__  
facing the ghosts that decide if the fire inside still burns.  
All I have, all I need, he's the air I would kill to breathe.  
__Holds my love in his hands, still I'm searching for something__.__  
Out of breath, I am left hoping someday I'll breathe again  
I'll breathe again…_

Quinn woke up startled, her cell phone ringing loudly nearby. With a groan, she shielded her eyes from the rays of sun that pierced through her windows, before scrambling around, trying to find her phone. One eye open and her hair a complete mess, Quinn grabbed the ringing device, slid her finger across the screen, and pressed it to her ear.

"Good morning, sunshine!"

"Go away," she mumbled in response, hanging up immediately. Tossing the phone onto the spare space of her bed, Quinn rolled over and found herself face-first in a pile of t-shirts. She inhaled deeply and then sat up, her head dizzy with the scent of Sam Evans. Somewhere between her intermittent crying and mixed up thoughts last night, she had fallen asleep – somehow, everything seemed so much harsher in the daylight.

With a tentative step and feeling like she'd just been run over by a truck, Quinn forced herself out of her bedroom to find Mike waiting, a to-go cup of coffee in one hand and a bagel in the other. With a wrinkle of her nose, she grabbed both, before sitting down on one of her kitchen stools.

"Remind me to take back your key to my place," she grumbled, biting into the bagel forcefully.

"You told me to use it for emergencies – this is clearly an emergency," he pointed out, lifting up a limp strand of her blonde hair, before she swatted him away.

"I'm fine,"

"No, you're late," Mike chuckled. "Get dressed; we have class in an hour,"

Quinn sighed, resting her elbows on her kitchen counter. "I just got back yesterday, can't I have the day off?" she whined.

"You've missed out on four workouts already – are you really willing to fall behind?"

"Oh my god, when did you become such a drill sergeant?!" she cried, wrinkling her nose. Shoving herself off the stool, she pushed past him and retreated back into her bedroom.

"Quinn, I just don't think you moping around is going to solve anything!" Mike replied through the closed doors. She rolled her eyes and unceremoniously shoved all of Sam's shirts off the bed and back into the box. With another sweep of her hand, she pushed all the other knick-knacks and random mementos on top of the shirts and as quickly as she could, Quinn moved the box into her closet. Hidden underneath a pile of old folders, shoes, and clothes, she felt her heartbeat return to normal and her pulse balance – there was something about having Sam's presence in her room that made her feel suffocated. As if he was really there, but he wasn't and she didn't want to be reminded of the fact.

She took another deep breath, blocking out Mike's persistent door-knocking, and changed into a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater. Grabbing her books and her bag, she pulled her blonde hair into a high ponytail and flung open the door, pushing past her best friend. He stumbled back, slightly shocked at the sudden reappearance, but Quinn caught a glimpse of his know-it-all smirk. Clutching her boots in one hand, she whirled around, her ponytail smacking him across the face.

"There is nothing to _solve_. Sam and I aren't some _problem_ that you and Tee can fix," she said through gritted teeth. Mike opened his mouth to retort, but she held up a hand in front of him. "I'm really, over-the-moon, totally ecstatic that you and Tina are back together, I really am. But don't look at me like I'm some sort of case study and you have to find a solution. There is no solution, okay? He's in Nashville and I'm in New York. I love him and he loves me. It is what it is. And yes, I'm going to be sad about it, because you know what? _I miss him_. But I know life doesn't just stop, okay? I get it. But just let me…just let me figure out how to breathe again, okay?"

Quinn took a deep breath and held her stare against Mike's. She could practically see the wheels turning in his head and when his frown slowly turned into a smile, she exhaled.

"Okay," he nodded slowly, before reaching around her to open the front door.

"Okay."

* * *

Jogging down the steps of the lecture hall, Quinn tucked her notebooks into her giant bag and quickly made her way towards the little coffee truck that was always dutifully parked just outside the entrance of Columbia. She spotted Santana from several feet away, her bright red mini-dress standing out in a sea of dark-clothed college kids. The Latina was sipping on a hot chocolate when she saw Quinn running up to her and with a snide smirk; she tapped her foot, waiting for her friend to catch up.

"About time, Fabray. I've been bored out of my mind, waiting for you," Santana chirped. "This place is dead boring. And where are all the cute boys? What, does Columbia not have a man candy quota to fill or something?"

"Aw, you're so nice, San," Quinn rolled her eyes and grabbed the hot chocolate out of her friend's hand, taking a sip for herself. "Clearly, skipping higher education has benefitted you,"

"Whatever. Before you go all Psychology-preachy on me, I have some news,"

"I take Political Science!"

"Smarty-pants," Santana snorted, before linking arms with Quinn, as they started walking down the street towards a nearby café. "Anyway, I got an interesting call from the director of the last commercial I did and guess what? He wants me in a music video!" she cried excitedly.

Quinn dropped her friend's arm and squealed in unison, gathering Santana in a bone-crushing hug.

"That's amazing! I'm so happy for you!" she grinned. And this time, she really was. There was something so perfectly appropriate about Santana starring in a music video – despite how often they jabbed at each other, Quinn had to admit that her friend was an amazing performer.

Stepping into Max's Café – a popular hangout for Columbia students – Quinn motioned for Santana to grab them a seat, while she stood in line for food. As she tapped her foot against the hardwood floor, she felt a surge of pride for Santana. There was no doubt that out of all their friends from McKinley, Quinn and Mike were the resident dancers, but to know that Santana – someone who they had once taught in a handful of classes – had made it to the bigger leagues was exciting.

She quickly ordered their food and made her way back to Santana, flopping down on the comfortable couches and taking a long, languid sip of her iced tea. Across from her, Santana bit into her sandwich and struck up a conversation about how excited she was to be on set for the music video. Quinn settled into her seat, occasionally leaning forward to grab a few bites of the salad she'd ordered, and she briefly wondered if this was how life was going to be from now on – filling up her empty time with lunches and dinners and breakfasts with people she loved, but not necessarily people that she wanted to see.

"So why'd you ask me out for lunch today, Q?" Santana asked abruptly, bringing Quinn out of her pitiful thoughts.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you usually have lunch with Mike, before you go to your dance classes,"

Quinn shrugged noncommittally. "Mike's having lunch with Tee. She has a free day today," she explained.

"Does that bother you? Mike hanging out with someone else again?"

"He's hanging out with his girlfriend, Santana. It's expected,"

Santana sighed, flipping her hair over one shoulder and scooting forward to the edge of her chair. "Before you get your undies in a twist, all I'm saying is that it must be weird going from having Mike all to yourself to sharing him with someone – Tina or no Tina. Doesn't that change your dynamic? I mean, surely she's not going to let you guys have your little sleepovers or Netflix marathons or dance days or whatever you weirdos like to do,"

Quinn wrinkled her nose in thought. "Yeah, I can see her kicking up a fuss, I suppose. But I don't know, Tina's different in the city. She's a lot more understanding, I guess. Besides, they haven't said anything about it yet and I was hanging out with them the other night and it was fine…you know what? I'll deal with it when the time comes," she huffed, crossing her arms in defiance.

"Fair enough," Santana conceded.

Quinn took another bite of her salad, about to steer the conversation to another topic, when a shadow fell over their small space of the café. Looking up and ready to brush whoever it was off, she was greeted by a quick hug – tentative, hesitant, but warm, all the same. She pulled back, wincing at the close contact, but hurriedly plastered a smile on her face when she realized who it was.

"Chris!"

"Hey, Quinn," his grin was lopsided, curled up on one side, one hand stuffed in his jeans pocket. A leather messenger bag hung casually on his shoulder and she could see a stack of papers poking out of the flap – briefly, she caught the words 'International Economic.'

"Um, excuse me, but who are you?" Santana snapped. Quinn stifled a laugh, remembering that they hadn't actually been properly introduced.

"Oh, I'm sorry – that was rude of me. I'm Chris Blackwell," he stuck his hand out and Santana shook it, a bewildered expression crossing her features. Chris gestured towards the blonde. "We're in a study group together,"

'_And we made out that one time, but it's nice he didn't bring it up,'_ Quinn thought to herself, the memory causing her to cringe. Chris was a perfectly nice person – smart, handsome, popular, and a talented soccer player, she had almost forgotten that they had dated casually and briefly some time back, before Sam had reappeared in New York. She recalled several half-hearted talks with Mike about the situation – Chris was always too eager to please and at that time, Quinn was deflecting every emotion that came to her.

"He's is in my International Economics and Political Relations class," she explained.

"That sounds incredibly boring," Santana deadpanned.

Chris gave a short laugh. "Believe me, it is. So boring in fact, that Quinn here hasn't even shown up to half of our study groups this past month," he pointed out.

"I've been…busy," she shrugged, bristling at how easily the lie passed through her teeth. "A couple of friends moved into the city, so we've been helping them settle in,"

"Some more than others," Santana smirked, but then clamped her mouth shut when Quinn glared at her.

"Well, I hope they're settled in nicely – the city can be pretty intimidating on your own," Chris said, before turning his attention to the blonde. "Anyway, Quinn, we should get together some time. Catch up properly, you know?"

Immediately, she shrunk back into her seat, an unsettling feeling creeping up in her stomach. "Um…okay?" it was a hasty reply and she knew Santana would make fun of her for it later, but she couldn't comprehend the situation – an ex-boyfriend asking her out when she had just sort-of gotten back together with her other ex-boyfriend?

'_What on earth has my life turned into?!' _

Chris' eyebrows rose sceptically, but he shrugged and leaned forward towards her, all the same. "Let's do dinner next week…like, a date? We can head to that new place on 110th,"

Quinn swallowed and tried hard to ignore Santana's bemused expression from across the table. Her head felt like it was a spinning top and she was suddenly very aware that the temperature in the café had risen several degrees – or was that just her? Chris was nice enough – polite, gentlemanly, and there had been nothing glaringly wrong with him – but there was no spark, no passion, no excitement to their little courtship. Not to mention, now there was Sam. Sam Evans, who'd awoken every little piece of Quinn and made her come alive with one fleeting touch. She couldn't go out on a date with someone who had always held a torch for her, not when her heart was still in Tennessee with a blond boy who had a penchant for doing celebrity impressions.

"Chris, I'm just really…swamped. Can I take a rain check? I'll give you a call or something," she replied, trying to choose her words to be as vague as possible. She saw Chris' eyes narrow – almost as if he didn't believe her – before he pulled back and shot her another one of his lopsided grins.

"No problem. So…it was nice to meet you," he gestured at Santana and then turned back to Quinn. "I'll see you around?"

She nodded and gave him a small wave, her eyes following him as he left the café. The minute the door closed, Quinn turned back around to face Santana, who's eyebrows were raised so high, they were practically in the middle of her forehead.

"What is it?" she asked, tiredly.

"I didn't say anything,"

"Yeah, well, you didn't _not _say anything, either."

* * *

"He's cute! And he's obviously interested – what's wrong with going on a date with him?" Santana asked, for what felt like the millionth time. She trailed behind Quinn, as the blonde walked briskly ahead, the wind whipping her hair back, away from her face. There was a chill in the air and she smirked at the irony – nothing much felt warm enough these days.

"Santana, let it go," Quinn warned, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, thankful that the studio was just around the corner.

"You're just going to sit and mope about not being in Nashville with Sam? You can't wait for him all your _life_,"

"I swear to god, if you don't shut up in the next…"

"What, you're going to slap me? Been there, done that, honey," Santana scurried to run in front of Quinn, blocking the entrance to the Dance Space. "I think you're making a mistake. Sam would _want _you to try and move on,"

"Okay, you know what, Santana? Even if Sam does want that, I _don't_. I don't want to go on some meaningless date with Chris Blackwell and sit through a mediocre dinner with mediocre conversation – all the while thinking about the person I'd rather be with," Quinn breathed out, the grip on her dance bag shaky. "What is with you and Mike, anyway? Why do you think I'm this little thing that needs to be taken care of?"

"Because you're _sad_, Fabray!"

Quinn scoffed and rolled her eyes, ducking around Santana to pull at the studio's glass doors. "Of course I'm _sad_," she said angrily, stepping into the building and trying her hardest to control her shaky breathing. Without even glancing behind her, Quinn knew Santana was already gone – it wasn't the type of fight that was going to burn bridges, but their friendship was built like that, ready and waiting for the next match that would light the fire little by little.

She hurried into the changing room and stripped, quickly pulling on her leggings and loose top, before throwing her hair into a haphazard ponytail. Her class didn't start for another thirty minutes, but she knew her studio would be empty, something she absolutely needed after the day she'd had.

There was no better feeling than stepping into the dance studio for the first time. It was where Quinn felt most at home – all she needed was a smooth floor, walls made of mirrors, and a barre. The air con was set on low and she relished in the sticky warmth, as she made her way towards the stereo to flick it on. A slow, familiar song started and Quinn stood herself center in the room, closing her eyes and focusing on steadying her breathing. Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest, and as the song built in intensity, so did her heartbeat, building until it was pounding in every vein throughout her body. Without even thinking twice, Quinn danced – more fervently, more angrily, and more passionately than she had ever danced before. She spun, twirled, shuffled, and slid across the smooth floor, her feet alternating between heated stomps and delicate toe work. Sweat dripped off her skin and for the first time in a long time, she finally felt centered.

Ever since Sam had walked back into her life, Quinn's world had been tipped upside down, spinning on the wrong axis. But now, her body resisting the wind that pushed against her and her movements in time with a rhythm, Quinn felt alive again – in control, again. She wasn't alright, she knew that. She was a bomb, waiting to explode, a mess of emotions and a whirlwind of unpredictability. But dancing was helping – the rhythm, the beat, the coursing pulse would help her find a center in a world she couldn't grasp anymore. Her frustrations came out in the form of angry fists to the floor and her vulnerability showed in the curves of her back, dipping low to pull back up.

As the song ended, tapering off into slow end, Quinn was on her knees, her shoulders heaving, her lungs desperate to suck in air. She took a glance at herself in the mirror and a corner of her mouth curled up gently, admiring the muscles in her arms and legs and how they rippled with every breath she took. There was sheen of sweat matted across her skin and she felt her limbs aching in the good way.

She didn't know how long she sat there, trying to figure out why her reflection seemed like someone else – someone more capable and stronger than her counterpart. The upturned corner of her mouth quickly drooped into a frown and without another warning; Quinn felt the tears build in her throat, choking her with every fissure that opened her heart.

For the first time, Quinn wondered if she'd ever learn how to breathe on her own again.


End file.
